Summer
by hogsmeadefairycakes
Summary: 5 years post war, Hermione and Neville are the counselors of a summer camp for pre-Hogwarts students.
1. Over

I don't own any of this. JK Rowling does.

xxxxxxx

"Ron, I cannot. Believe. You. I have been working so hard to get to this place, I FINALLY get the job and you want me to give it up? Do you really think that's fair?" Hermione's eyes were brimming with tears she was determined to prevent from falling.

Ron sighed. He didn't WANT to move to Hogsmeade. He was happy at their apartment in London. He was happy with the nightlife, and he was far from ready to settle down. "We're _young,_ Hermione! I don't want to go to Hogsmeade! Everyone is older there, in bed by 10! I like it here!"

Hermione shook her head. She was beginning to understand what was happening, and the more Ron spoke, the less she wanted to see of his face.

"You don't want any of it, do you? You don't want marriage, or a family, or a bloody white picket fence and a dog. You want to party. You want video games, booze and spliff and Quidditch." Ron hung his head. "Maybe when we're 30, 'Mione, but not now. We're young." He repeated pleadingly.

She shook her messy curls. "I'm sick of taking care of you, Ron. I'm not your mum! I think ... I think we're done here."

She looked back at Ron's shocked face once more before throwing in the floo powder.

"Diagon Alley" she managed through her escaped tears.


	2. A New Leaf

Neville hummed happily as he approached his quarters next to Gryffindor tower. He stayed up later than usual, singing his baby mandrakes a lullaby. He started with surprise when he opened his door to see that Headmaster McGonagall had helped herself to a cup of tea in his sitting room.

"Good evening, Minerva. To what to I owe the pleasure?"

The headmaster shot him a warm smile. Having watched him grow up, she always felt that he was like the son she never had, and seeing him as a well liked and respected professor always brought joy to her heart.

"Neville, I know it's short notice, but I was wondering what plans you had over our summer break?"

"I was just going to go home to visit Gran. I told her nurse she could take off the summer months."

"Ah. Well, how difficult would it be to change your plans? Since the war, Hogwarts has had a decline in student attendance, because with the battle here, people assume that it's not safe," McGonogall explained, offended. "In order to show students and parents alike how safe the school can be, I would like to have a summer camp. No classes, persay, just maybe 100 7-10 year olds. We can let the children experience the sorting, eat in the great hall and sleep in the dorms, teach them Quidditch and explore the grounds, so that they're excited to start school when they're of age. What do you think?"

Neville frowned, contemplating the situation.

"Of course," she added quickly, "I would make sure you could Floo from my office to your grandmother's, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind a visit or two from Madame Pomfrey and I. And I have found you help!" She smiled.

"Help?"

"Yes, Miss Hermione Granger, who will be taking my post as Transfiguration professor, has agreed to co-run the program with you!"

Neville smiled. It would be nice to see an old friend, and he did have a way with children. He found himself nodding as McGonogall let out a sigh of relief.

"Wonderful! You don't know how much this means to me, my boy! It will be quite a summer!"

xxxxxx

Two weeks Later

xxxxxx

Hermione couldn't believe that after all these years, she was in Gryffindor tower. Her heart ached at the nostalgia of it all. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel Ron and Harry beside her, warm cups of pumpkin cider in hand, bickering over who would win the world cup that year.

She took a deep breath as she sunk into an overstuffed maroon couch beside the unlit fire place. She had spent the past two weeks at the three broomsticks, crying and watching sappy romance movies on the tablet her parents had bought her for Christmas. It would be good for her, she reasoned, to have time to herself, the time that she never had in her adult life. It would be nice, even within the walls of the school, to have quarters she could decorate as feminine as she wanted, and not have to find a way to compromise.

"Hi, Hermione!" Hermione was shaken from her train of thought, and stood to give Neville a big friendly hug. "Goodness, I missed your hugs," Neville said jauntily. She couldn't help but grin - his positivity was infectious. He stepped back, holding her shoulders at arms reach.

"You look lovely, if not a little sad. I assume that has to do with a certain red head?" She nodded, clearing her throat. "Yes. Ron and I were at a crossroads, and when it came down to it, we wanted different things." She gave him a resolved look. He gave her another hug. "Well then this is just what you needed! We're going to have good fun!"

She nodded. Yes, this could be just what she needed.

"So, down to business," Neville stated. He pulled out a long scroll of parchment with messy notes all over. "Since the children are younger, there will be no classes. I did a bit of research and I think what we should do is run this a little more like a Muggle summer camp. We can have crafts, and bon fires, sing songs, and row in the lake. What do you think?"

"Oh yes, I think that's a brilliant idea! I went to a camp like that once, and by the second day, I forgot how much I missed my mum and dad. It was brilliant!"

She sat down on the floor, asked a lingering house elf for a cup of tea, and there they sat, into the early morning, planning games, and reminiscing about their times at Hogwarts.

"So, after breakfast, Ravenclaw will have Quidditch, or gardening?" After receiving no answer, he looked over to find that she had fallen asleep. He yawned. He realized that he was quite tired as well. He covered her with a throw from the couch and switched off the light. Feeling contented, he let himself out of the portrait hole and back to his room. It was nice having his old friend back at the castle.

Hermione had requested that her quarters come undecorated and unpainted. McGonagall had assigned her portrait, a young woman, faceless with flowing blonde hair, reading a book on a chair in a field of vivid red poppies. She set her password, "Bibliotéc," and was immediately in love with her space, an open canvas for her to work with.

Dark Wood floors ran throughout a cozy open space - dining room, living room with a fireplace, and a kitchenette. At the end of the open space there was a window overlooking the forbidden forest. There was a private bathroom with a detachable shower and a claw foot tub and sink. Two rooms were on each side of the apartment - one with a door and one, more of an alcove, with a simple archway. Through the archway there was nothing but a small mahogany writing desk and a simple white lamp and shade.

The bedroom had an oak four poster bed, with fresh white sheets and duvets, and in true Hogwarts fashion, flowing white curtains adorned the posters. A heavy oak dresser sat in the corner of the room.

Immediately, she knew why McGonagall felt that the apartment would work for her. She lay on the bed, closing her eyes to visualize what she would make it in to. She imagined cozy and simple, with tasteful splashes of color. And oh, the books. She could line every inch of the place with bookshelves if she wanted, with no one to complain.

As much as it hurt to not have Ron around her every day, to sleep in bed alone, she knew she made the right decision. She was away from him, and she felt free. She never fit in his lifestyle.

Ron worked as an Auror for the Ministry, and she was proud of his hard work. But he took that work as justification to party hard on the weekend. He would stay out all night with his friends and come home drunk, reeking of marijuana. He would wake up hung over, whinging at Hermione to make him a proper breakfast. Their apartment was always a mess and smelling of gym socks and dirty dishes.

He took the fact that she worked from home three days a week to mean that she was responsible for cleaning, when really it just meant that if she didn't, she would have to try and function in the mess. She hated it. She was partially tempted to leave her apartment empty, just so she could revel in the lack of clutter.

As much as she would love that, she thought, she needed the remainder of her clothes. She needed her books and her jewelry, and the keepsakes from her childhood. She would have to go back to London. She would have to see Ron.


End file.
